Early at 8 am is a steaming Americano, no sugar, ordered under the name ‘Eggric’ in a tall paper cup. Taehyung silently watches – he’s never got the cashier duty.

The man makes another coffee run at 3 pm, the man barks out his order with a scowl; another Americano, no sugar and in the tallest paper cup the café has and leaves with a dark glare directed at anyone who dares to block his way out.

At 7 pm, just before Taehyung’s shift ends, the man comes back with rumpled clothes but a faint quirk is visible on his lips. He looks visibly relaxed as he orders a cup of iced Americano and mutters a faint ‘thank you’ and struts out of the café with a straw gnawed between his teeth.

It seems like a routine, now that Taehyung has been working in the café for at least a month since it was opened, but he still doesn’t get the man’s name and he believes ‘Eggric’ is not his name. Another thing he believes in – the man has a vicious addiction to caffeine.

Taehyung shudders, he doesn’t want to meet the man when he’s on withdrawal.

Cashier duty finally dawns upon him - he’s fixing his nametag (“Kim Tae” it reads, Taehyung remembers he bristled a little at that) and adjusts his apron when the door slams open. Taehyung winces a little at that and plasters his best obnoxious smile.

“Welcome!” His voice rings across the café, a little packed but it gives away the familiarity of home.

‘Eggric’’s eyes are fixed on him – Taehyung suppresses the urge to cowers under his gaze and beams some more. He takes long strides , dark bangs fall upon his eyes and he gives Taehyung a small smile. Taehyung glances at his wristwatch – it’s nearing 3 pm and he has never heard the man anything but snarls at his fellow staffs at this time.

“Hello. Finally get the cashier duty?” Taehyung blinks and tears his eyes away from his wrist, this is the first time he hears the man speaks and his voice is low and melodic – and surprisingly soft.

“Yeah. Kind of nervous but excited at the same time but hey, I’m always good with people.” Chattering has always come naturally to him and to his surprise, he finds ‘Eggric’’s smile widens, even just for a fraction.

“I see. Can I get hot Americano? Biggest cup you have.” Taehyung jots down the order, sneaking a glance up at the man with a bright smile on his face.

“Would you like some donuts? Or cakes? We swapped our menu tocarrot cake and so far, people’s been telling us that they like it.”

“Nah,” ‘Eggric’ cuts without a second of hesitation, “probably later,” he adds with a grin. Taehyung blinks dazedly, the man is certainly attractive. Dazzling handsome, well-sculpted bone structure and all that.

“Nice,” he finds himself blurts out. “And the order is under the name of Mister –?”

“Eric,” ‘Eggric’ eyes him for a moment before he slowly spells, “E-R-I-C,” as he hands Taehyung several clumped bills.

Taehyung snorts a laugh and returns the changes while looking completely undeterred under the man’s questioning look. “Okay, Mister Eric, have a seat and I’ll have someone to deliver your order.”

Mister Eric smirks at him (Taehyung refuses to call that a smile. A smile is supposed to sweet and innocent and all flowery) and lowers his gaze to his nametag. “Alright… Kim Tae.” And with that, he plops down on a stool on the side of the cashier, elbows propped on the wooden table and sends another smirk.

(Taehyung carefully places Mister Eric’s order on his side and busies himself with counting the bills on the machine to ignore Mister Eric’s crestfallen look and a murmur of ‘thanks’ before he storms out of the building.)

At 7.30 pm, Taehyung is shoving his scattered books and stationery into his backpack when the door slams open. The café is sparse, only filled with several college students with several espresso shot glasses on their tables and a stack of thick textbooks. The laptop’s screen is illuminating their faces – making the dark circles under their eyes seem more prominent. Taehyung has to smile sympathetically at that – he’s been there and it wasn’t pleasant. He is glad to be out of college by now.

Mister Eric strides towards the cashier, who is now Jungkook’s duty, and glowers at him. “Americano. Biggest cup. Make it stronger than usual,” he grunts, eyes locked on Jungkook who scrambles around to make the order. One of the student glances up and catches the sight of the glowering man – and tries to shrink behind his laptop’s screen.

Only Mister Eric doesn’t realize that and continues to glower at Jungkook.

Taehyung is fairly glad he’s done with his shift. And pities Jungkook – the man is undeniably intimidating but warm at the same time. He remembers the small smile and smirk the man gave him and has to swallow down a sigh.

Mister Eric’s eyes find him and his eyes soften a little, lips curling up into something that could grow into a smile. Taehyung returns it with a smile of his own and nods his greetings. He bites the insides of his cheeks as he turns away from Mister Eric – though his eyes kind of give the impression of smiling away.

“Oi, Kookie,” Taehyung shouts, “I’m going. Good luck.”

Jungkook flushes and raises his hand, waving them briefly as he sets down Mister Eric’s order in front of him. “Yes, hyung, thank you!”

Taehyung steps out of the café with a grin. He might have caught Mister Eric pulling up a smile that’s wider than any other smiles he’d ever received from the man but he won’t say a thing.

It goes on for about a month – Mister Eric swings by the café at 8 am, 3 pm and 7.30 pm and, according to his friends, sometimes at 11 pm too, looking disheveled and exhausted. Sometimes he visits the café with a friend; a man, smaller than him with a pair of smiling eyes and an ever existed grin. He always orders the cakes and tries to shove it to Mister Eric’s mouth, making him growl and snap at the smaller man.

He’s learned several things about the man – he’s in his late 30s, a language teacher at a prestigious private university. Owns a dog (who names his dog ‘Bear’? Seriously) and lives in an apartment three blocks from the café and (just as his smaller friend, Minwoo, loudly announced with a glance towards him) very single. Taehyung hums and tries not to think of that.

“You look pale. You sure you don’t want our cakes?” Taehyung quips, oh-so-conversationally at Mister Eric (or Eric, the man had insisted), who stares at him with wide, dark eyes. There is a fleeting image of a Golden Retriever puppy behind that stare and Taehyung bats it away.

“Nah, I’m good,” Eric shrugs, withdrawing a couple of bills and hands them to Taehyung. Taehyung purses his lips, not quite pouting, and gestures to the stool on the side of the cashier.

“Here.” There is his usual order (hot Americano in a tall, paper cup) and, Eric blinks, a glazed donut on a paper plate. Taehyung’s eyes are fixed on him, beaming and waves his hand. “The donut is on the house.”

Eric snorts, fingers wrapped around the cup but he reaches out for the donut. Taehyung glances up right when Eric steps out of the café while shoving the donut into his mouth and he certainly doesn’t miss how Eric’s lips curl into a satisfied grin. Taehyung muffles a chuckle behind his hand before he greets another customer who walks into the café – Eric is definitely a tsundere.

On Monday, it’s bitter tiramisu topped with sweet and fluffy cream. On Wednesday, it’s chocolate lava cake. On Thursday, it’s jam filled donut topped with powdered sugar. And on Saturday, it’s a slice of apple cinnamon pie.

Eric always throws him a look as he delivers his order with a plate of different cakes each day but he nevertheless eats them, and from Taehyung’s vision, carefully concealing any pleased reaction regarding the cakes.

“Are you trying to make me fat?” Eric asks dryly as he accepts yet another glazed donut along with his steaming Americano.

Taehyung grins at him and hands a bunch of tissues at Eric, “Nah,” he says instead, “you’re looking pale and I don’t want you to pass out in the middle of the road. And you look thinner. Are you sure you’re eating?”

Eric snorts into his coffee and delivers an amused stare at him, “Nice of you to care about me.”

Taehyung harrumphs though the tip of his ears start to flush. “Our objective is to feed our customers so they won’t die of starvation. And, of course, fulfill their caffeine needs.”

Eric leaves with a smirk on his lips and Taehyung can feel Jimin, Jungkook (practically every staffs) giggling behind his back. His nape burns and he whips their backsides with a wet flannel, sending them to a screaming frenzy and retreats to the kitchen.

“So,” Minwoo casually starts, leaning close into Taehyung with a cheeky grin etched on his face, “you’re this ‘Kim Tae’ who keeps feeding Eric sweets.”

“Yes.” With a perplexed smile, Taehyung nods. “It’s ‘Kim Taehyung’ actually. But my–“ he trails off, before picking up, “–friend who made the nametag is an idiot so I became Kim Tae.”

“Taehyung,” Minwoo repeats, sending impish glances at Eric, who shrinks behind the newspaper he’s reading, “anyway, I want to thank you.”

“Eh,” Taehyung blurts out before his brain able to form a coherent sentence. “I mean, why? What for?”

“For feeding Eric. He barely eat at home and God knows he’s burying himself under all those books at his office – you have to know that his refrigerator is filled with beers and he eats rice with kimchi for breakfast. He can cook but he is just lazy. Sometimes. Most of the time. All the time.”

Momentarily drowning in the stream of words, Taehyung merely nods his head before quirking up a bright grin that almost matches Minwoo’s. “Well, no problem. I’m glad he’s eating. He does look thinner.”

The arch grin doesn’t abate at the slightest as Minwoo leans back and gives him an once-over, an eyebrow quirking up in appreciation. “And you’re very cute. Absolutely Eric’s type. Well then, see you around, Taehyung.”

“Huh?” Taehyung splutters at Minwoo’s retreating back, his cheeks start to flame as he watches Minwoo drags Eric out of the café while throwing a wink at Taehyung. He just realizes that Minwoo didn’t order anything.

The cake-and-coffee-delivery lasts for several months after that and Eric has started to pay for the cake he delivers along with his order. Taehyung smiles fondly at him (discreetly, of course) as Eric chews down on the donut, cheeks puffing out.

“Someone’s got a crush,” Taehyung can feel Jimin murmurs against his neck on his right and Jungkook’s muffled chuckle on his left.

“No one’s got a crush,” he snaps, louder that he intended and flushes as Eric’s gaze fly towards him. “Shut it, go back to work or Seokjin hyung will have your head. Both of your heads.”

“Seokjin hyung knows,” Yoongi quips behind him as he saunters out of the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked brownie. “He knows you’ve been sending that man cakes and donuts all these months.”

Taehyung bemoans into his hand, face flaming bright red. “Now Seokjin hyung will have my head. I pay for the cakes, he knows that.”

“Yes, he knows,” Seokjin sing-songs, popping behind him and scuffs his hair lightly. “Go home, you’re finished with your shift anyway.”

Dropping his hands on top of the counter, Taehyung sends his friends a withering glare before shooting an apologetic smile to Seokjin. “Sorry, hyung.”

Seokjin waves his apology off, grinning from ear to ear and taps the back of his head lightly. “Go. Your man is waiting for you.”

Taehyung’s face grow hotter at that and he hisses through gritted teeth as he walks to staff’s room. “He’s not my man!”

It’s a little past 7 when Taehyung steps out of the café after grabbing his backpack and throwing withering glare at Jimin and Jungkook who don’t stop giggling. The cold wind washes over him, cooling down his flaming face and he releases a sigh, raising his hands to rub his cheeks.

“Hey, Taehyung.” Taehyung flinches at the unexpected voice behind him and whips his body around, hands raised in a practiced stance only to find Eric staring at him with an innocent smile, if not partly amused. (The infatuated part of him whispers, ‘he calls you Taehyung!’ but – no.)

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He doesn’t sound sorry though, Taehyung scowls at him.

“You didn’t sound sorry at all,” Taehyung accuses with a frown on his lips, clutching at his backpack straps. “What is it?”

“Is your shift done?” The smile doesn’t fade – instead, it grows wider into a grin as Eric stares down at Taehyung.

“Yeah,” Taehyung utters out slowly, eyebrow raised up in an unspoken inquiry.

“Let’s have dinner? My treat.” When Taehyung’s mouth opens to voice out a protest, Eric cuts him off, “Let’s just say this is for the cakes you bought for me.”

Feeling his cheeks flush for the second time today, Taehyung throws Jimin, Yoongi (practically everyone) who’s hurdling behind the window to watch them an icy stare before he sighs, palm pressed against his face. “I take it you heard Yoongi’s words earlier?”

Eric shrugs, looking completely unrepentant. “It’s not like your friends were trying to be quiet,” he pauses and, for the first time, his face tightens into something that screams anxiety, “so.”

“So.” Taehyung repeats, just because he can, and stops.

“So,” Eric echoes and frowns, “dinner?”

“Is this a friendly dinner or…” Taehyung trails, eyes gleaming with mischief that belies his flaming cheeks, “is it a date?”

Eric scuffles uncomfortably on his feet and ducks his head slightly. “We can make this a date if you want to,” comes as a murmur, pink dusting his cheeks.

Taehyung throws his head back and chuckles, giving in to the urge to pat the other man’s head. “Okay, okay. Let’s go. It’s time for dinner, isn’t it?”

He certainly is not prepared for the way Eric perks up immediately and sends him a bright, blinding grin. Taehyung clamps his mouth close, dumbfounded – that grin is not good for his heart.

“So, Taehyung,” Eric quips with a smirk, leaning close until his chest is pressed against Taehyung’s shoulder as they head to a restaurant – fingers sliding through Taehyung’s locks down to the nape of his neck before it slides to cage his shoulders, drawing a shudder from Taehyung, “what do you think of kimchi fried rice for dinner?”